


saving me (again)

by figure8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coda, Episode 311, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Stiles doesn’t come back. Scott and Allison jerk out of their ice baths, gasping for air; but Stiles’ eyes stay closed and he just </i>floats<i>. Lydia’s hands are still on his shoulders, gripping him tight, actually tighter than when she was pushing him down but it makes no difference.</i></p>
<p>Because sometimes, people grow up and anchors change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	saving me (again)

**Author's Note:**

> so there was a [tumblr post](http://neuroticstilinski.tumblr.com/post/58144033390/what-if-stiles-doesnt-come-back-like-hes-stuck) and then this happened. and then [may](http://failwolves.tumblr.com) gave me a title and someone asked me to post it on ao3. i was bribed. this is so not my fault. (except for the horrid english. /that/ is all mine.)

 Stiles doesn’t come back. Scott and Allison jerk out of their ice baths, gasping for air; but Stiles’ eyes stay closed and he just _floats_. Lydia’s hands are still on his shoulders, gripping him tight, actually tighter than when she was _pushing him down_ but it makes no difference.

 

“He’s not waking up,” she says, her voice filled with utter panic. “He’s not… guys, he’s not _waking up_!”

 

She already nearly lost him once today. He feels so small under her fingers, so fragile; his pale skin made even paler by the water.

It takes Scott some time to readjust to life, to understand where he is; but he quickly snaps out of his comatose state and almost falls on the floor in his attempt to reach for his best friend. Deaton steadies him, clutching his arm.

 

“Careful, Scott. You’re going to be weak for a few minutes at least.”

 

“ _Stiles!_ ” is Scott’s only answer. He still tries to get to him, shakes the vet’s hands off him. “What is happening to him?”

 

“It looks like I’ve miscalculated something,” Deaton explains calmly. “Don’t worry, he’s not in mortal danger… yet. He just needs something… someone. Someone to pull him back.”

 

“I thought that was supposed to be _me_!” Lydia croaks.

 

“Your bound is strong, but it’s not apparently…”

 

“He’s not in love with me anymore,” she realises. “I… I kissed him earlier, I thought-” 

 

“We ne-need to bring him his d-dad” Allison rasps, teeth chattering. Isaac wraps a big towel around her shivering body.

 

“You have approximately an hour,” Deaton starts. “Normally, it should be less, but Stiles is stuck between life and death. That renders, I hope, his father useless to Jennifer.”

 

“Because if Stiles is dead,” (Scott’s voice breaks a bit as he stumbles on the word _dead_ ) “His dad is not a parent anymore.”

 

“He’s not going to die,” Isaac cuts them off. “We’re bringing him his dad back and he’s going to _wake up_. Come on, let’s _go_!”

 

***

 

Derek isn’t sure what exactly they’re doing here. To be quite fair, he isn’t sure of what is _happening_ , period. He feels like his whole body is numb. His senses are weak and shallow: he forgot what it was like to be a Beta. He wonders if Scott and the others feel powerless like he has the impression he is now all the time. He really hopes they don’t.

Peter pushes the door and the bell rings, announcing their presence. Derek sniffs around instinctively. Isaac was there a moment ago (he’s still pack, whatever Peter tells him, Derek _knows_ the smell of pack) along with the Argent girl and Scott. Their scent lingers in the air, slowly fading. He can also smell Alan Deaton, and hear his heartbeat, which means they didn’t come for nothing. There’s another heartbeat, though.

First he doesn’t recognize it, because it’s so _slow_ and _tired_ , barely audible. For a second, he thinks it’s a small animal, but something doesn’t feel right. He stops his uncle, a hand on his forearm.

The heartbeat _is_ familiar, though. Derek concentrates (damn his Beta senses, this would be so much easier as an Alpha) and then he gets it.

 

It’s Stiles.

 

It’s Stiles but he can’t _smell him_ ; it’s Stiles but his heart is fluttering and the sound is fading and fading and _fading and_

“Derek.”

 

Peter’s voice brings him back to reality, and he realises his claws and fangs are out.

 

“Calm down, nephew.”

 

Derek ignores him and storms inside.

 

“Derek,” Deaton greets him without turning around from where he’s filling small bottles with some liquid to face him. “What brings you here?”

 

“Stiles,” the werewolf lets out even if it isn’t what he was asked, and Peter snorts. “What- where is Stiles? I heard…”

 

“Mister Stilinski is in the next room lying down. I highly suggest we leave him rest as he-”

 

Derek doesn’t hear the end of the sentence because he’s already running to the room. He has to _see_ , he has to make sure it was a mistake; that Stiles isn’t _dying_. There were so many deaths already; the thought of it only is making him choke.

 

He’s not ‘lying down’. Stiles’ body – _Stiles,_ his mind corrects him– is floating on a pool of ice cubes and mistletoe. He’s hardly breathing.

 

“No,” he gasps. “ _No._ ”

 

His arm is trembling when he reaches out, his fingers barely touching the teenager’s shoulder; mirroring his actions of the night Boyd died, an eternity ago. The boy is so _still,_ so _cold_. Derek strengthens his grip –maybe because he feels like he’s falling, vertigo taking over him, like…-.

 

Stiles opens his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello [here](http://dewreckhale.tumblr.com) :) i'm nice. most of the time, uh.


End file.
